Parler
by chinesetakeoutt
Summary: Parler - "to talk" en francais. Dita, unable to speak her true emotions, is confronted with a horrific scene. Zima questions her, and Dita begins to think twice about her actions.


Disclaimer: I don't own.

"Our feelings are purer than humans."

"In my mind, my adorable Dita comes first."

"Our creator designed us with relationships between persocoms and humans in mind, but I bet he never thought of a relationship between two persocoms."

How is it possible for three simple - yet terribly complex - sentences to puzzle me so? I sigh quietly, brushing my hands through my hair. Everything had been going so smoothly for so long, particularly between Zima and I. Even the girl with her... boyfriend appear to be doing fine. But life, ever changing, seems to enjoy to throwing curve balls at me.

But I suppose everything depends on one's definition of the word 'smoothly'.

There's no doubt in my mind I have a good 'life' with Zima, even if all we do is argue half the time. (I refused to acknowledge what Zima has said to me, which happens to be that the arguments are ninety-nine percent my fault.) I'm destined to have Zima for all eternity - or until one of us breaks down. I've never said anything to Zima, but if something were to malfunction within him to cause a system crash, I'd go down with him, whether he'd want me to or not. (Admittedly, I like to keep him on his toes - I'm sure he's wondered to himself many times if I'd give my existence for his.)

There's always trouble in life, regardless of how I may try to prevent it. I have yet to actually say, "I love you" to Zima. I see often the pleading look in his eyes when I start with, "Zima... I…" but I can never seem to continue. Selfishly, I can't say I blame myself entirely, because the pressure always seems overwhelming. I can't help but think it would be easier to say I loved dirt more than him half the time. It isn't that I care for the dirt more than him, because I don't, but dirt can't look me back in the eye.

Needless to say that any conversation that should end in 'love' usually ends with me on my knees, head slightly bent, and Zima holding me and saying, "Maybe next time Dita, love." To be frank, I don't see how that takes the pressure of my shoulders, but I let him say it anyway. Maybe it was when he tacked on "love" to my name that always made me feel like I had to reply, as though I had to say it back to him. I know this was unintentional, and therefore I can't hold it against him. I've even got pretty close, such as halfway through "love" but can never seem to finish. It makes me question how Zima say he loves me so casually, so easily, as though it's simple.

Sometimes I question myself and ask if I really love him, or if I only say that because he tells me he loves me. But the moment Zima holds our faces together and we are hardly half an inch apart, I immediately forget that thought. It is one of the few times I have to realize that I am not immune to everything.

Zima… He's constantly trying to do something new with me, like I'm some kind of experiment, which is almost why I purposely go against him. Well, and more to help keep up appearances - irrational, he calls me? I can show him irrational.

Speaking of my own slightly beloved, where is he, Zima? I swear ten minutes ago he was lying down. I suppose I let my mind's programming wonder when I was looking over the edge of the building. It was true we decided to stay up on the roof, for it was the place we were familiar with and felt comfortable with. I turned around, still not seeing him. I turned in a full circle before finding him on my far left side, looking down as well.

He seemed to be lost in thought like I had been, and it seemed weird to have my smiling Zima look so concerned unless he was worried. I slid over to his right side and looked up at his deep computerized-eyes. He didn't seem to notice me, and for a brief moment I panicked and thought he might have been hacked. But when he shifted slightly and his didn't look as concerned I knew he was all right.

Still.

I shook his arm and said, "Zima?"

He seemed to finally take notice of me, grabbing my waist and pulling me against his chest. He kissed my forehead softly and I wasn't too sure why he was doing all this and saying nothing. The pull and kiss were normal, but the fact that he had said nothing for almost an hour seemed beyond strange.

"Zima," I said again, though my tone more demanding than prior.

He smiled weakly and turned my body around so now my back was to his chest. He's keeping me on my toes this time, making me wonder. He leans down near my face and I turn my head to look at him. He whispers softly, so softly, to me, "Look down, Dita."

I gave him a questioning look before sitting up and leaning over the bar. My hands slip off it slightly, and I take them off the bar to peer farther over. The more I lean down the more I can feel Zima's tight grip on my waist. I jerk forward a little, a sign that he was going to have to either let me go or lean forward with me.

He leaned.

I felt him rest his head on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off when I saw a cluster of people around something. It seemed to be a persocom and its owner, but the persocom wasn't moving. She was just lying there.

Unmoving, dead as a doornail.

"Z-zima…?" I stammered, grasping his hand sharply.

I can feel the movement as he raises my hand to his lips and kisses it softly, sadness ever present in his actions. "That… that persocom," I mumbled and he nodded to confirm.

The sounds of people clustering, the unmoving persocom and the silence from Zima all but confirmed that the persocom had been hit and the system had long-since crashed. "Why are you showing me this!" I yelled accusingly at him, sharply turning around and releasing everything but my hands from his grip.

"Dita love, what would you do if that happened to me?" He asked.

"I…" Where did this come from? "Zima.. I…"

He watched me with those eyes, those deep and burning eyes that were so like my own.

" 'You' what?" He said, his voice a little stern and serious for once.

I knew he was taking this in all seriousness and that my answer rested on a lot more then just what he was asking. But why did he have to force me now?

Really, he didn't have to force me to do anything. I knew what I would do. "I.. I'd go down with you."

It was a surprise that I'd even said that out loud, but to take it back would be far too cowardly, and seeing Zima's surprised, but oh-so not-so-secretly happy expression changed my mind.

"Dita, love, you don't mean that," he said softly, attempting to pull me back to him.

I came willingly, not really wanting to fight him off. I rested my forehead on his chest, my hands clutching his shirt as I made sure not to look face-to-face with him. He used his hands, however, and was soon forcing me to kiss him. But it wasn't so much forcing considering I complied. He pulled away and continued, "Dita, I don't want you to go down with me."

His tone was deadpan, serious, and I felt slightly annoyed at him giving me orders. I said nothing and then finally mumbled out a reply of, "But I'd cease to function without you. I'm supposed to protect you. And if you crash… then... it's my fault…"

He sighed, pulling me closer. I let him, resting the side of my head on him this time. "Dita love, even you can only do so much."

I jerked my head up at him and snapped, "Don't say that!" He smiled that damn smile that made it seem as though everything would be perfect, always, even if we both know how perfectly impossible that is.

_3 Hours Later; 9:00 pm_

I looked up at the temporarily shut-off Zima who was resting. He seemed so peaceful, although somehow managed to look troubled even when doing so. He was lying comfortably on the ground, face to where the sun had left and moon was shining. I was laying on him, my chest pressed against his own and my face an inch or so below his. I brushed the hair from his eyes and said, "I'd go down with you because...because I love you, you idiot."


End file.
